


Beach Divorce Redux

by plum177



Category: X-Men: First Class (Comics)
Genre: Beach Divorce Fix-It (X-Men), Gen, Gen but could be read as shippy, Old Fic, Shippy Gen, doesn't actually fix anything, he just needs a smack round the head to remind him that he has friends, it is possible for Erik to behave like a real person sometimes, mostly I just wrote it because I am a dramatic bitch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-26
Updated: 2011-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plum177/pseuds/plum177
Summary: I rewrote the Beach Divorce. In June of 2011. And now it's 1am in August of 2020 and I'm apparently loading this as my first ever archived fic to ao3. I'm tired and gay and I just watched XFC and it has so many issues but I still kinda love it.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Kudos: 9





	Beach Divorce Redux

**Author's Note:**

> Speech _in italics_ is Charles' telepathy stuff. In case that wasn't obvious.

It's a strangled gurgle rather than a cry, but it's louder than the gunshot that preceded it, at least in his mind. Everything slows to the consistency of treacle.

He turns and watches Charles crumple in on himself, body collapsing to the sand, face falling with the realisation of what's happening to him. Everything else is just white noise as he skids to his knees in the sand and his hand curves towards the base of Charles' spine.

Which is when his hand is knocked away and time comes rushing back in like a freight train.

Moira. She's trembling and saying something and Raven's only a step away and she's screaming too. He shakes his head to try and shake off the fuzzy silence, but it doesn't work, and he moves his hand back towards Charles' spine. Moira smacks his hand away again and shouts something into his face. He can't process it.

Then Raven arrives, dropping to her knees in the sand by Charles' head and smacks his helmet as hard as she can. Her face is a mixture of terror, sorrow, and incandescent rage. His ears are ringing, but finally, sound floods back in to go with the confusing mess of what he's seeing.

"-you idiot! Leave it where it is. We need to get him to a hospital as soon as possible!" Raven's shouting.

"-drag it out, you'll do more damage than good." Moira yells.

Both of them are only a few inches away, and he looks down at Charles, whose face is stupidly pale and his breathing shallow, but is still trying to put on a brave smile for Erik's sake.

Time goes all wobbly again and for what could be any length of it, he and Charles stare at each other and Erik isn't sure whether it can be all right between them ever again. Charles' smile is faint and pained, but there is still hope in his gaze. Erik doesn't know what he looks like to Charles' eyes, but he's almost certain it's not as walled-off as he should be trying for. But Charles has had that effect on him from the beginning.

Sound fuzzes in and out. It's so strange. He can hear the crash of waves and the cries of a gull circling high above perfectly, but Raven is right by his shoulder and sounds like she's calling from the other end of a tunnel. He can faintly hear her shouting to the others now. She's organising them, and that's a slightly worrying thought, Raven in charge of everyone. 

Still, people are moving and even if he's not looking entirely happy about it, Azazel has been dragged over to them. Ah.

He braces himself.

There is a strange sensation tickling all through him and they're kneeling in a hospital corridor. Quite a busy one. Everyone's staring and silent, but it doesn't last long, as Raven starts to order people around and Moira jumps up to help her.

All Erik can do is stare at Charles. It seems as though all Charles can do is stare back.

Erik runs a gloved hand through Charles' hair.

Charles raises his hand and his fingertips skid across the metal of the helmet.

Oh.

Yes.

The helmet.

_Shaw's_ helmet.

It had seemed like such a good idea.

Erik's hands feel unsteady and weak as he reaches up and clumsily pulls it off.

Charles' smile seems a little less pained now.

A voice trickles into his head. A familiar voice. _"It wasn't your fault. Wasn't anyone's fault. We can fix this-"_

There is a pause, Charles' eyes flutter shut briefly, and a spark of pain worms it's way into Erik's head along with Charles' words.

_"-together."_

Then there are doctors and nurses and Raven and Moira, and Charles is being pulled out of his arms and rushed away on a trolley to the operating theatre.

_"Stay?"_ He hears, but the voice is faint. 

Moira and Azazel have disappeared. Raven puts a hand on his shoulder and coaxes him up from the floor, then over to some chairs. The helmet lays in the middle of the floor on its side. No one touches it. She leans against him as they sit.

There is a long stretch of silence.

The others arrive slowly. No words are spoken. No one moves. Eventually a rough voice scrapes through the emptiness of the room. It is Sean's.

"So. What do we do now?"

Erik looks up at where Sean leans against the wall with Alex and Hank.

"We wait. For Charles."

**Author's Note:**

> I think that at the time of writing I assumed that Charles had been properly shot through and they just didn't show the blood because family movie rather than that the suit is bulletproof, but on rewatching it's super clear that that's not the case and that he doesn't bleed because the bullet doesn't pierce his skin at all and I was wrong. So make of that what you will. I hope you enjoyed the fact that I like descriptive prose and am terrible at conclusions.


End file.
